


Local Flame Boy Is Loved And Appreciated

by Sophisticated_Adult



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Cuddles, Fluff, Hugs, M/M, Merformers, Roddy is the best one and I will die on this hill, Some angst but mostly fluff, Stay-at-home Dadvatron is trying his best, Transformer Sparklings, unironic use of the word Decepticreep
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-04-18 10:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 9,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14211045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophisticated_Adult/pseuds/Sophisticated_Adult
Summary: A self-challenge to pair Hot Rod and/or Rodimus with Literally Everybody (that I can write). Taking pairing/prompt requests! (read the author's note first)





	1. Prowl, Skywarp

**Author's Note:**

> These will be mostly be very short shorts unless something runs away with me, and positive feedback has been known to draw another ~1000 words out of something I thought I was done with, so, you know /shameless begging
> 
> Characters I either already have something written for or planned:  
> G1: Grimlock, Jazz, Arcee, Galvatron (but of course), Soundwave, Starscream, Ironhide & Springer, Shockwave???  
> MTMTE: Brainstorm, Rung, Drift, Whirl & Cyclonus, Megatron & Minimus, I don't actually have an idea for Deadlock yet but I am absolutely writing me some HotLock at some point
> 
> Those are the two canons I can write for but I can attempt to bullshit my way through Animated & Bayverse if you're desperate for some Roddy rarepairs. Plan is to post two per chapter per day, then when I run out of backlog two shorts per week seems doable??? (hahaha look at me I'm overcommitting myself probably)

**G1 – Prowl**

“I – how long have you been under there?”

“Long enough.” From his spot underneath Prowl's desk Hot Rod grinned, bright smile doing nothing to dissuade the worry _that_ statement drew. “I'm on strict orders. If there's no emergency and it's not urgent, I gotta drag you away from here if it gets late enough.” He leaned forward, optics darkening and his voice taking on a tone he doubtless _thought_ was a lilting purr. “By any means necessary.” Prowl leaned back slightly, but he didn't fail to note that Jazz – for it had to be Jazz who had given this 'strict order' – had still given him an out, that he could claim the work truly was urgent.

“Well.” Prowl raised an optic ridge. “What do you have in mind?”

Clever fingers brushed his thighs. “I can think of a coupla things.”

He would have to chat to Jazz about corrupting the youth. Later. Right now, he was busy.

 

**Skywarp**

“Trust me, me an' Star did this all the time.” Skywarp's expression darkened. “Then he got all lovey-dovey with Skyfire.”

“Not like us,” Hot Rod said. They were squished together, wings and spoiler brushing against one another, but the large berth was comfortable and plenty warm between Skywarp's larger frame and Roddy's innate heat.

“Nah,” Skywarp agreed, slinging an arm around him. “We're cool. Hey, shut up, it's starting! Man, you'll love the part where-”

That was basically how it went for the whole movie, but Hot Rod couldn't say he was disappointed.


	2. Brainstorm, Rung

**MTMTE – Brainstorm**

“Look,” Rodimus said, unable to keep the slight whine out of his voice, “whatever Firestar's got going on, I want that. It's _totally_ unfair.” He leaned forward, waving his arms. “Come on, it's got fire in it! You love fire. I know that for a _fact_.”

“I do,” Brainstorm said, appreciating the close-up view of his Captain's chest. “Hard to argue with that.”

**MTMTE – Rung**

“It's stupid,” Rodimus muttered, face flushing. “I'm stupid. Forget it.” He blinked when a slim hand brushed against his own.

“You're not,” Rung said, voice as gentle as his movements as their fingers slowly entwined. Rodimus tried to laugh it off with a huff and a shake of his head, but the smaller mech's grip was surprisingly persistent. “And I'll keep saying it, because it's true,” Rung added. Rodimus' lips wibbled slightly. Then he surged forward and pulled Rung into a huge bear hug, not caring how public they were and how technically unannounced their relationship was (despite that the whole ship probably knew already). 

“Thanks, babe,” he murmured. “I'll keep that in mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have always lowkey thought Rodimus/Rung is hella cute and it's a shame it basically doesn't exist. Let them hold hands and positively encourage each other!!!!!


	3. Arcee, Grimlock, Jazz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A threefer today since one is so short (warning: contains Sad). Also featuring the fact that apparently the only 100% monogamous romantic RodCee I can tolerate is if it has lady Roddy in it, and this fic is nothing if not me exclusively catering to my own interests and it's a happy bonus if someone else likes it, so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**G1 – Arcee**

Hot Rod knew she was in trouble the moment she met Arcee.

Arcee wasn't hiding. She openly called herself 'she'. No-one seemed to take too much issue with it.

It made Hot Rod feel like garbage even as she plastered a sunny smile on her face, stuck out her hand and said _Hi, I'm Hot Rod!_ in the new voice she'd been working on. Since coming up with the brilliant idea of disguising herself as a mech so she'd maybe be taken a _little_ more seriously, no-one had looked at her twice, which was actually an improvement over people's attitude towards her before.

Arcee didn't look twice, either. She didn't need to.

“Arcee.” She smiled warmly. “You one of the new recruits?”

“Y-yeah, just got here!” Hot Rod laughed, loud and fake. She was sure one of the mechs who'd waved her through with the rest of the group had been one of the sneering guards from last time she'd tried to join up. Racers were so common that all it took, apparently, was a change of paint and a modded voicebox to make her practically invisible. She'd take _just another racer_ over _the femme_.

Arcee was nearly a head higher than Hot Rod, but her hand was slimmer and seemed to fit hers perfectly when she slid it into Hot Rod's. Arcee smiled. Hot Rod's spark did some weird jump-stutter in its chamber. Hopefully that wasn't anything that would get the CMO to yell at her, she'd heard stories and hadn't had her compulsory check-up yet.

“I could show you around?” Arcee said gently. “Have you had the tour?”

“Uh, I know where my quarters, the medbay, and rec room are. And Prime's office,” Hot Rod added as an afterthought. (“My door is always open,” he'd said, and seemed to mean it; Hot Rod was already planning on checking it out in the middle of the night to see how open it really was).

“Well,” Arcee squeezed her hand reassuringly, and _Primus_ , that _smile_ , “I know a few spots worth checking out.”

**G1 – Grimlock**

Of all that had changed, the only thing that seemed to matter to Grimlock, here and now, was the fact that it wasn't quite so easy to bodily sling Rodimus Prime over his shoulder as it was with little Hot Rod, but he managed it with little fuss nonetheless. Well, little fuss on his side of things, anyway.

“Grimlock!” Rodimus half-gasped, half-laughed, flailing at the suddenness of it all but still careful not to actually land any kicks – a Prime's strength was still new enough to catch him out sometimes. “Grim! Grimmers! Come on, lemme go!” He rode up and down a little as Grimlock shrugged.

“You Rodimus working too hard,” Grimlock informed him. “You recharge now.”

“Grimlooooock,” and there was more than a bit of Hot Rod in his tone (if not his words) as Rodimus pleaded, “I've just gotta finish the one report-”

“Him Magnus can wait,” Grimlock said firmly. Arguing with a stubborn Dinobot was difficult at the best of times, and in the current circumstances any dignity Rodimus might have had left was well and truly abandoned if the smiles and snickers of those Grimlock marched past were any indication. Therefore, he gave up and let himself be carried away, and would justify it as a morale-boosting exercise if anyone asked.

**G1 – Jazz (post-movie)**

Jazz wasn't broken, but he was breaking slowly, and that was almost worse to watch. All Rodimus could offer was quiet warmth, and the closeness to a Prime's spark.


	4. Cosmos, Drift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've come to the end of stuff that's pre-written, I'll try to have something for Monday and then a Sunday update schedule seems good. Also uh there's gonna be 2 Galvatron shorts because 1. G1 RodGalv is unironically my OTP in this fandom (thanks entirely to raisedbymoogles tbh but I have no regrets) and 2. I was already going to do a particular AU that's been knocking around in my head for a while but écrivainne_solitaire makes a very convincing argument in the comments for their desired scenario.
> 
> Thank you for all your support!

**G1 – Cosmos**

“You see there?” Cosmos pointed it out to him, but even after a few days on Earth Hot Rod could recognise the distinctive pattern. 

“That's Orion, right?” He asked anyway, just to be sure, and Cosmos nodded bashfully. “That's where I'll be,” the diminutive mech said. “Orion's nice. It's very pretty.”

“I'll make sure to look out for you,” Hot Rod promised. Maybe he'd see if Danny wanted to make a night of it. Having spent most his life hiding underground in Cybertron's tunnels, the stars were something particularly special to him.

**Drift – mer AU**

Drift had been following the ship for some days now, drawn by the aura of someone on board that was so bright and intense that he was half-surprised there wasn't a trail of mer already following in its wake; it felt like his own, special secret. The ship had been stationary for a while now but that suited Drift just fine. The aura was so intoxicating it warmed his spark just being this close to it. 

There was commotion above the water, but he wasn't too concerned with the sounds that filtered down through the calm depths until that special aura flared and flared impossibly brighter, and there was a dull _thoom_ that reverberated through the water followed by a splash. It took a moment, after the ship started to move off and the aura began to fade, for Drift to realise what had happened. 

They were _throwing it away!_

A mixture of shock and outrage spurred him forwards until he came across a mech sinking rapidly into the gloom. He was beautiful, sleek curves and pointed features, and he was clutching with both hands a strange object that glowed with white light, but it was the gaping hole in his chest that drew Drift's attention. He didn't seem to be able to move, given the clear panic in his over-bright optics as he stared Drift down, and offered no resistance as Drift went to put a hand around his back to stop his fall, leaving them both suspended.

The white object flickered and went out, but Drift's attention was caught by the glow beyond it that came from the breached sparkchamber. He leaned forward, unable to resist that which had been pulling him these last few days even as the mech's life-force was fading. Coming to a decision, Drift drew him close, placed his other hand over the guttering spark, and began to sing. It was low and wordless, he didn't want to catch anyone's attention with a full-blown aria, but the frozen mech's spark responded beautifully. The soft light all but leapt to his fingers, and the rest soon threaded through easily enough until he could cup the precious thing with both hands. He let the now empty frame sink again, feeling a small pang of loss at the optics that had been a shockingly bright blue now gone dark, but he could come back for it and the odd trinket it still held later. What he needed to do now was preserve the sacred light as much as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drift is helping!


	5. Boulder, Soundwave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's [carinatae's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carinatae/) birthday! Here is her request (fic 1) and her fave (fic 2). Everyone go and say nice things about her fics.
> 
> I have literally never seen Rescue Bots and this is probably wildly not canon and/or OOC but that is not going to stop me, enjoy my going entirely off of 'he's the nice one and likes gardening, got it.' (Just, keep in mind if you request a series/character I don't know then expect copius Making Things Up and/or AUs because I don't know what I'm doing more than usual)

**Rescue Bots – Boulder**

“Boulder...rod. Hot Boulder. Bold Hot. It just doesn't work!” Blades shook his head. “We really need to workshop this.”

“Oh, you worry too much.” Boulder was happy to lean back, enjoy the sunshine and the view of the neatly cultivated garden and the newest Autobot arrival inspecting everything in careful awe. Hot Rod had made a big splash – literally – in surfing a crumbling meteor down to the planet, but he fit well with the team and could be surprisingly insightful. Boulder found himself falling fast and hard for the mixture of cautiousness and eagerness – Hot Rod wanted to learn everything about Earth, but he seemed like he was holding himself back; Boulder wanted to see him truly relax, to know the quick, carefree grin was freely given instead of guarded by something behind his eyes, so the green mech had suggested an outing to a place that had always given him soothing comfort on the strange yet wonderful planet. He saw no reason it wouldn't help Hot Rod in the same way.

Blades had worked out Boulder's little (big) crush even before Boulder himself, and busied himself with worry on behalf of his friend when Boulder was content to let things be. Right now, his fretting over the perfect compliment to Team BumbleBlades (copyright pending) wasn't nearly enough to get Boulder to act on his feelings, not when he was so content with the world and the sunset scene before him.

**G1 – Soundwave ('war's over, everyone pair up for peace' AU)**

Hot Rod had gone for a checkup, to make sure he hadn't somehow bashed his head in and forgotten about it. Then, when the message remained the same, he'd dutifully reported it to the higher-ups, because it seemed pretty big.

 _Your presence, requested_.

From Soundwave, of all mechs. Bypassing all communication security, sliding neatly into his inbox like it was always there, tantalising in promise. Yes, You, Random Autobot Grunt Who Never Achieved Anything Noteworthy. Prowl had looked like he was waiting for a punchline. Then, after the awkward silence and he realised Roddy was serious (yes, that Soundwave), he'd ushered Roddy out of his office with a curt _excuse me_ and a command meeting was called.

Then, astonishingly, he got the go-ahead.

“Honestly? I think he thinks you're cute,” Blaster said, clapping him on the shoulder. “He's not wrong. Go for it, mech, I say.”

Well, there was still debate after that, but as the same carrier frametype that might have some inkling of Soundwave's thoughts and motives, Blaster's position was hard to argue when the war was well and truly finished, and Soundwave was invested in Megatron's version of peace they'd hashed out in endless talks. Hot Rod had put his name forward for consideration, but as he was kind of a nobody, he wasn't really expecting anything. 

So he was a little wary and kind of freaked out a bit when he came to actually reply _sure, why not_. The response was instant, but it was just co-ordinates and a time, giving him a few hours to psych himself up and receive various levels of reassurance from his friends that he probably wasn't going to die. 

Soundwave's bulk was easy to spot, shadowing the small hill outside the main city. Relatively neutral ground. 

“Good luck, kid,” Kup said, encouragement radiating in everything from his tone to his field. “I'll be right here.”

“Right.” Hot Rod was suddenly much less sure of himself as he transformed to root mode and left Kup waiting enough of a distance away to be a comfort. Soundwave turned to face him as he approached, but he remained sitting even as Hot Rod made the last few steps towards him. _He doesn't want to intimidate me,_ Roddy realised; they were of about the same height with the much bigger mech sat calmly beside him.

“Greetings,” Soundwave acknowledged with a tip of his helm. Hot Rod nodded back, still not quite sure that he was really doing this. “Uh, yeah. Hi.”

Smooth.

“I, ah, got your message. Obviously. Sorry about taking so long to reply, you know, with how everything is -” He was babbling, and of course there was probably no-one on Cybertron who knew more than how everything was than Soundwave. Hot Rod decided to sit down himself before making himself look like even more of an idiot.

The thing was, Soundwave didn't even say anything, just looked quietly down at Hot Rod until the already keyed up racer quickly went to fill the silence again.

“So. I gotta ask. Why me?” He stared up into the red visor. Soundwave waited until just a few seconds on the wrong side of uncomfortable to say: “You have many...good qualities. Your presence, requested.”

 _He thinks you're cute_ , his inner Blaster reminded him. Hot Rod blinked. “Are you...asking me out?” He tipped his head to one side, just in case the world made more sense this way. There was a weird, muffled noise, a _kerrpfft_ not unlike when Hot Rod needed to shove his hand into his mouth to stop laughing when they'd had high-grade for the first time ever and Springer had tripped right over his own feet.

Soundwave made an odd vocalisation, almost like a cough, and thumped his chest a few times right over his Deceptibrand. The noise stopped. How strange.

“Affirmative.” He straightened up. “If you are willing.”

He'd basically been given permission, right? And Soundwave hadn't been paired off with any the Autobots in the name of peace yet, right? And he wasn't important enough to be some kind of pawn in a weird power game long-con, right? And if it turned out he was, maybe he could get Soundwave to see things from his point of view. One thing was for certain: Hot Rod hadn't gotten to where he was today by overthinking things.

“Sure.” He stuck his hand out. Soundwave's visor brightened considerably, and he stared for a moment like he hadn't actually expected such a quick and easy answer. Hot Rod grinned, but it turned into a more real smile when a large hand practically engulfed his own.

“Agreed.” Soundwave looked him dead-on, then surprised him with a slight tug, causing Hot Rod to (gently) be pushed against that broad chest. “Hot Rod.” Soundwave said his name like he was testing how it sounded coming from his vocaliser. Given that his arms came up to encircle the smaller mech completely in a careful hug, Roddy could only assume he liked what he heard.

Well, he thought, doing his best to return the hug, this was certainly going to be interesting.


	6. Double Galvatron Special Edition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just gonna roll around in the OTP for a bit here.
> 
> 1st fic is something that there's no way I'd manage to make its own big thing but it hits just the right amount of 'deliciously mean' that it never really went away, so here it is at least somewhat written down. (if anyone would like to steal it and make it its own big thing please let me know so that I can read it).
> 
> 2nd fic is for écrivainne_solitaire, as previously mentioned, because hell yeah why _not_ that thing you said.

**G1 – Galvatron – soulmates AU**

“Is it okay?” Hot Rod asked, nervous despite Springer's grumbling _'it's fine, honestly'_ and Arcee's reassurance that the spiky black words written across his spoiler from tip to tip were adequately covered from what little paint Kup somehow managed to keep providing (he'd take ugly orange patches any day, it wasn't like he could see his own back. That wasn't the point).

The Command staff on Earth had all already been informed, but the last thing Roddy wanted to do was enter the Ark and have everyone _see_ it.

_I will destroy you, as Megatron destroyed Prime!_

As far as the first thing your future sparkmate was going to say to you went, it was rotten luck. _Maybe he means Sentinel Prime_ , Hot Rod hopefully suggested once, but Magnus had shot that down – an unknown assassin had taken Sentinel's life, and Megatron would undoubtedly have boasted if it were him. 

\---

Years down the line, Rodimus Prime woke blearily, processor given a good knocking by the cave-in. He shook his head, trying to orient himself, but froze when a hand grabbed his spoiler and a harsh voice demanded, “What's this, Prime?”

Galvatron. Galvatron was in here with him. And -

Rodimus shuddered as the hand brushed across, tracing out glyphs he'd honestly forgotten between the trauma and subsequent sheer amount of things a Prime needed to do; there must have been enough scrapes since everything went down for them to start to show through again.

He laughed helplessly, even as a heavy foot pressed down on his back and pushed him into the earth.

“It's actually a really funny story,” he said.

**Galvatron II**

Galvatron did not storm or stomp down the hall. He had worked hard to better himself and was not about to backslide over what was starting to become a despairingly common occurrence. 

She'd gotten away. _Again_. It took only the slightest lapse, a quick trip to get himself some energon, and she could drop down to the floor and be on her merry way like a shot. At least it was commonly known, now, what a little silver ball trundling its way forwards was (Rodimus thought she was more grey, but Galvatron knew better). Whoever retrieved her would comm either his own lieutenants or Rodimus', and then she would be safely returned no worse for wear. Until the next time she wanted an adventure.

Galvatron shook his head. Spark of his spark, yes, but he had never possessed the wanderlust that seemed to drive her. He vaguely hoped she would burn it out of herself when she came to grow cunning.

_:Hey. Think I've picked up somethin' of yours.:_

Ugh. Of all people – Galvatron had never really liked most of Rodimus' friends, save a grudging respect for Ultra Magnus, a hard-learned lesson to keep a wary eye on Arcee, and a distrust of Kup in general. Springer, the most 'ideal' warrior type among them, was the one he ended up finding to be the least worth his time. Another message arrived before Galvatron could begin to reply: _:We're on the third floor rec room:_

: _I'm on my way,_ : Galvatron replied curtly, then cut the line. He didn't need to be imagining the mech's aggravating smirk before he even arrived at the rec room to retrieve his wayward offspring.

Whether it was already empty or if Springer had it cleared out or if everyone else had simply vacated the room on hearing Galvatron was coming, it hardly mattered. Springer was sat at a table close to the entrance, wiggling his fingers over the delightedly clicking sparkling nestled in the crook of his other arm, but he looked up as Galvatron strode forward.

“Just like your sire, aren't ya?” Springer grinned at her as she made a flailing grab at his hand and held fast onto one of his fingers. “Don't wanna sit still.” 

_She sits still for Cyclonus_ , Galvatron thought mulishly, but he would eat his own arm, still attached to his body, before he would say such a thing out loud to this mech in particular. With Cyclonus she was always as good as gold, and with Scourge there were plenty of Sweeps to keep her entertained and to keep an eye on her. It was only him she abandoned to go exploring at the first opportunity. Rodimus she liked well enough, but he was too busy even with the work of Prime split between himself and Optimus (not that Galvatron would ever recognise any Prime save one), while here was Galvatron with plenty of idle time on his hands. It made sense.

Springer stood up, and here she seemed to realise there was someone else in the room. She half-twisted in Springer's arms, purple optics blooming brighter and wider than they already were, and burbled in happy recognition as she reached out to him.

“Oh, so now you decide you like me,” he grumbled as she pressed herself against his plating, but it was pretense, for she was his after all. 

Springer chuckled. “You know, I didn't think I wanted kids, but she makes a good argument.”

“Well-” Galvatron was distracted before he could say something ugly. “Ah.” She was patting down his armour plating, a look of fierce concentration on her tiny, round face. It was one Galvatron knew well. “Do you mind?” He looked pointedly at Springer, who stared blankly for a moment before the lightbulb went off in his head. “Oh! Right. I'll stay outside, make sure you don't get disturbed.”

Galvatron rolled his optics to the ceiling as Springer left. Oh, what would he do without such a noble soul to keep a surely necessary guard, for he, Galvatron, terror of the universe, was truly in need of such aid. 

“Yes, yes, here you go.” Retracting his fuel lines, she made a bright squeak and clamped down, eagerly taking her ration. Galvatron idly stroked her head while she did so, only needing one of his fingers to rub across the three little nubs that were likely in imitation of his own proud crown, while Rodimus was very optimistic about her shoulders, that the little protrusions there were the making of a fine spoiler. 

Whatever she looked like, though, it did not matter. She was his and he was hers. That was the important thing.


	7. Thunderclash, Shockwave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will probably do a proper Thunderclash one for Lush_Specimen as this probably wasn't what you had in mind. It's what my brain gave me after I remembered that Shattered Glass exists and I prefer my Autobots in it to be spiteful petty selfish pricks over Superviolence And Nothing But The Superviolence. (not calling anyone out, just my personal preference)
> 
> I call this one 'two assholes square off and posture at each other while Rodimus makes out with Megatron in the brig'

**MTMTE – Thunderclash (Shattered Glass)**

“I'm sure you know why I've called for this meeting.” The small downward quirk in Ultra Magnus' features that indicated extreme dissatisfaction would be enough to strike fear into the spark of Autobot and Decepticon alike, save the one he was facing across the obsessively neat and straightened desk. 

“Oh, I can't say I do, officer. Have I done anything wrong?” Ruby optics gleamed brightly - just short of mocking - as Thunderclash spoke, the very picture of pious innocence. 

“This is an informal meeting.” Ultra Magnus continued as though Thunderclash had not spoken. “I merely wish to tell you what I tell every mech who comes on board this ship.” Thunderclash nodded in understanding, remaining ramrod straight even as Ultra Magnus loomed forwards. It was unfortunate, really, that he so clearly wanted to intimidate the one mech that it would not work on. The one mech with a more fearsome reputation than he carried. 

_”Do not touch Rodimus.”_

Thunderclash merely smiled at his opponent, for in comparison he was nothing but calm serenity, bolstered by the fact that he had already won. Magnus knew. Everyone knew, had seen Thunderclash watch their darling Captain from afar.

Magnus knew and _this_ was the way he thought it best to deal with it. It was sad, to see Optimus Prime's right-hand mech so lowered. His jealous grip on Rodimus was starting to falter. He couldn't be everywhere, see everything, and now here was a challenger there was no guarantee of victory over.

“Oh, I would not dream of it,” Thunderclash lied. He'd dreamed ever since he'd first had the pleasure of seeing Rodimus as himself, blazing and beautiful and criminally looked down upon. Since Rodimus was starting to break free, starting to actually give orders and expect them to be obeyed, and Thunderclash felt privileged to have a front row seat to its glory.

To Magnus, he offered a warm, friendly smile. “You do not have to worry, sir. I have no improper actions in mind.”

Optimus Prime's chief executioner looked as though he had not expected this outcome. “Well, good,” Ultra Magnus said gruffly. “See that you do not, and you and I shall have no problems with one another.”

“Splendid!” Thunderclash clapped his hands together. “A most productive meeting, sir. I am glad we are agreed.”

**G1 – Shockwave**

If asked, Shockwave wouldn't be able to provide an adequate answer. Not to himself, not even to Lord Megatron, if it came to it. The worry lingered, gnawing at the back of his mind even as the drones finished up their efforts. He dismissed them when their task was complete and they left silently, leaving Shockwave with himself and his newest acquisition.

Why had he not simply killed the Autobot? It would be a fascinating case study, were he not the subject himself.

It could not be simple aesthetics, this much he knew. He had never been one to be swayed by such things. If it was the combination of curves and flashy colours, why, Shockwave had an entire Seeker army at his beck and call, any one of which would be hard-pressed to refuse if they were called upon. No. It went deeper than that, and it was here he became uneasy. This was not territory he was familiar with. 

Shockwave eyed the Autobot, suspended in his stasis chamber, unmoving until his new master decided otherwise. Currently he served as little more than a wall decoration, but anything further than that, Shockwave would have to come to agreement with himself first.

He turned away. There was much to do. Other Autobots to flush out from the myriad tunnels they skulked in. Reports for Lord Megatron on the successful skirmish. The distraction was welcome.


	8. Unicron, Ratchet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Meant Everyone.
> 
> also, I will say what I said in the comments: I am 100% okay with anyone taking ideas from this fic! My brain just goes 'lol I dunno what happens next either' so if you really want to do your own thing with something here then it's open season, go nuts. Just 1. keep Roddy involved that's the entire point 2. throw a link back here if you post it 3. let me know cause I wanna read that.

**G1 - Unicron**

Rodimus had never expected, never wanted, to be here again, but the dark clawing at his mind had become too much, too much – this must be, he thought dimly, how Galvatron felt all the time, once. Except Galvatron had displeased his dark master by breaking free of His hold, by becoming his own mech.

Rodimus had never claimed to be so strong.

Here the maelstrom stilled, at least, but raging madness was replaced by a blank stillness that made thought and movement difficult, a thick, cottony fog enveloping his senses. He sank slowly to his knees, enough of himself left to wince slightly at the squishy, yielding material that passed for a floor deep inside Him.

Unicron was not dead. The knowledge brought comfort and horror, the latter pushed back and back by the fog until it didn't matter. How silly to think a shard, a weak, puny fragment of Primus could so wholly destroy his Brother. Rodimus had no commands – He was not yet in a state where they could be issued – but he knew that all he had to do was wait, and wait he would

**MTMTE – Ratchet – “Put That Thing Back Where It Came From Or So Help Me” (Mer AU continuation) (also this is going to end up as dratchetrod fyi) (except the part where I can't write long fic to save my life)**

“Ratcheeet~!” Drift warbled, pleased to see the medic already making his way down the beach, having spotted the obvious splashing signals Drift made on his approach to the shore.

“Yes, what is it-” he grouched (his version of a greeting, Drift knew), but his optics bloomed wide in shock, short-circuiting whatever else he wanted to say. “What is _that?!_ ”

“Oh, I think you know,” Drift purred, letting sparklight peek out from his fingers. Ratchet reeled back, shock and disgust writ on his features, as Drift held it out. “I don't – put it back - _Primus_ , is this what mers _do_ -” 

Now that went too far. “No!” Drift's tail angrily lashed in the water, sending spray everywhere. “ _They_ did.” He explained to a calmed-down Ratchet what had happened, leaving out the word 'aura' so he didn't try to scoff or argue when there were more important things at stake. “I need to keep this safe while I go back for the frame, then you can fix him.”

“That's a hell of an ask, kid.” Ratchet slumped down into the sands to kneel before him, already reaching out to the still-bright spark; Drift was oddly proud of how well it held together over the journey here, with only minimal encouragement needed to keep it stable. It was a strong one, that much was obvious. “I don't really know what you expect me to do, I don't exactly have specialised spark tech out here.”

Drift just smiled as gently, carefully, the spark exchanged hands with minimal fuss, save a brief flare that caused Ratchet to wince. “It's all right,” Drift cooed, half to Ratchet and half to the spark. “He'll hold.”

It was remarkable, Ratchet thought, how the smiling mer could say things without saying them, or say the same thing to different people and mean two different things. The spark was warm in his hands but not overly so, and it was in an astonishingly stable condition given its ordeal. If it had survived this long, maybe it didn't even need Ratchet's help that much. Ratchet frowned. Was he imagining -? He closed his optics, ignoring Drift's curious head-tilt, focusing on the precious bundle of life he held.

He wasn't imagining it. It was _familiar_.

“Drift.” His optics snapped open. “What did this mech look like?” 

Drift blinked at the sudden urgent, intense tone, but he readily replied: “The setting sun. Red. Yellow. Orange. Some mauve.” He sighed dreamily at the memory.

Ratchet shook his head. “He was doing well until the mauve,” he muttered, more to himself than the apparently love-struck fishy idiot. Ratchet held none of the superstitions surrounding mers; they were Cybertronians adapted for the water and nothing more, and he really, really didn't see what the fuss was about.

But this, he couldn't deny. Ratchet had worked with too many Primes to not recognise the _protect_ urge slowly curling through him, something beyond a medic's duty to his patients. No current Prime matched the description Drift had given him, but nothing in the universe could convince him otherwise about the spark he held.

“Be quick,” he said. Drift nodded in understanding, flashed a fang-y grin and slipped beneath the surface, leaving only ripples.

Now without an audience, Ratchet swore – more to make him feel a little better than anything else – rose to his feet, and hurried towards his ramshackle home on the otherwise deserted coast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of backstory to the Unicron one: In Target: 2006, one of the few G1 comics I've actually read because my library had it for some reason, there's a lot of time travel nonsense involved but towards the end they very casually have Unicron brainwash Kup, Blurr & Hot Rod into doing his bidding in order to stop Galvatron trying to kill him by building a god-killing doomsday weapon in the past (just go with it). Everyone loses their memories at the end and everything is back to normal except the part where I went 'you're really just leaving that wide open right before the movie? that Unicron can do that and it's maybe something he would want to call on?'
> 
> So, I'm going there. (in fairness later comics might go there but I have not read those). Also, alternate ending: Galvatron goes back into the past again in order to save Rodimus (and blow up Unicron For Real This Time) via yelling at the Constructicons until Soundwave goes 'no guys Laserbeak likes him he's legit' (it's 100%, beautiful canon in that comic that Galvatron and Laserbeak are BFFs across time and space and that's amazing)


	9. OT5, Megatron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've been on the angst/bad things happening train for a bit so here's something facilitated by angst but now they're all in a big sleepy pile and it's ok. ("hey Starscream, remember when you thought gluing some criminals together was a good idea, come over here and do that to some autobots please I want to see what happens" - shockwave)
> 
> 2nd fic is one I forgot I wrote and found going through my files (good lord I have way more unfinished Undertale stuff that was never going anywhere than I remembered) but I liked the note I left for myself regarding it so I'll post it here: _Ok yeah its pretentious and dumb but maybe ‘pretentious and dumb’ is actually the perfect combo 4 megarod??? Have you considered._
> 
> I have to say that past me makes a strong argument.

**G1 – OT5 – Gestalt AU**

“We need a name.”

“We need to go to sleep,” Springer grumbled. 

“Aye, 's right,” Kup agreed. “Think Magnus' already out, the cheater.” He aimed a fake half-swipe at the large antennae their Commander sported. A ripple of amusement flowed through the new bond, forged in trauma but unquestionably salvageable. 

“Should start with Ultra, that sounds cool. Ultra...something. Ultra...mega...super cool...guy.” Yeah, maybe the exhaustion was getting to him after all the excitement of the rescue. They'd only managed to drag some pillows and blankets into the middle of what was designated to become Magnus' office, then simultaneously decided that _now_ was the best time to, quite literally, hit the floor.

“Excuse me,” Arcee objected from where she was half-draped over Magnus' legs and using Springer's shoulder as a pillow.

“Person,” Hot Rod corrected. “Sorry.”

“Drop the mega,” Springer commented. “Obvious reasons.”

“Ew, yeah, you're right.”

“We'll work it out. _Tomorrow_. When we're rested an' can think straight. Now go to sleep, young'uns,” Kup ordered.

“I'll work on it. I'll try to dream something cool.” Wedged between Magnus' chest, Arcee's upper half, Kup curled around him and Springer's legs tucked under his own, it was the safest Hot Rod had ever felt for a very long time.

**MTMTE - Megatron**

Megatron lay awake, the red light of his optics illuminating his otherwise darkened quarters. Sleep was…evasive, these past few nights. There was much for him to consider.

Not like before, when there was a war to run and slowing down to think was a luxury for those with time on their hands. He had people to think for him. (That one of those people was Starscream, well. He didn’t say it was a good policy). 

Now he had even less time than ever, and yet, here he was. 

Here, on an Autobot ship with an Autobot crew and an Autobot brand splashed across his chest. 

Here, on the whim of his once-greatest enemy.

He was keenly aware that everything that he could still call his, from his position to his life, could be taken as arbitrarily as it had been given. Billions of light-years away, the shadow of Optimus Prime still loomed large. Yet he took no comfort that he was not the only one that was so affected by it.

A lifetime ago, he might have felt a vicious pleasure at seeing another suffer as he did. That particular spark had burned out long ago, at least when it came to Rodimus. (Starscream, he suspected, would still be another story entirely).

He considered, for example, that he and Optimus both said the same thing to Hot Rod, so long ago. It was a hard choice, but you did the right thing. You would be welcome in our ranks.

Yet here the two of them were, each ruled by a phantom partly of their own making.

Here they were, side by side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (her name is offensor and I love my giant robot daughter and her stupid name that I rejected for being too obvious and stupid and then immediately became attached to because this is what my brain does) (and yes she is a lady because are you going to argue with Arcee???)


	10. Swerve, Drift II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strong, yet correct Simpsons opinons itt.
> 
> Also I don't actually write Drift that often but it's nice to not have to go 'maybe this is a bit too much' because it's Drift.

**MTMTE – Swerve – that feeling when you invent your own rarepair crackship and you go 'oh fuck me it's adorable' and you only have yourself to blame (Hot-Rod-is-on-the-Lost-Light-for-no-reason AU)**

“This place is really amazing,” Hot Rod said, grin flashing as he sat himself at the bar. The lights caught his optics just so, and Swerve took a moment to stare.

“Not as amazing as-” he started, then clamped a hand over his mouth to stop the _you_ when he realised how awful that line was. “As-” Hot Rod's optics shimmered as he quirked his head in curiosity as Swerve panicked. “-as The Simpsons consistently was for nearly a decade!” He blurted out the first thing he thought of, having been on a mission recently to share the good episodes with every mech he could get to sit still for at least twenty minutes at any one time.

“I mean it kind of fell off a cliff eventually but man, you can't beat those early seasons-” oh Primus he was babbling and Hot Rod was staring at him and he was so cute Swerve wanted to die. Like most of the crew, Swerve had fallen hard and fast for the tiny speedster, his round, cute face and cheerful, hey-no-problem attitude despite his unusual circumstances able to do devastating things to a mech's spark. Even Thunderclash was finding it hard to remain true to Rodimus and was just as susceptible as anyone else to scramble over themselves if their resident temporally-displaced mech needed anything. That made Swerve feel a little better. If Thunderclash was affected, what hope did a guy like him have?

“Was it all right?” Hot Rod asked, worried. Swerve blinked. “Huh?”

“After it fell off a cliff,” Hot Rod clarified, concern wafting through his EM field. It took a second for Swerve to get it, but oh slag, that was adorable – the minibot was being _literal_.

“No, no, it's fine, I mean the garbage outnumbers the good stuff by like twenty to one these days but-” Swerve had to stop himself again at Hot Rod's blank look. “Look, how much to you know about Earth? Humans in general?”

“Not much.” Hot Rod shrugged and took a gulp of his drink (on the house; since coming directly from the bad old days in Nyon the poor guy didn't exactly have credits to spare). “I'd never heard of it until I came here, but it sounds really great. I'd love to see it.”

“Well, you got an evening free coming up?” Swerve asked a little too casually as his spark began to pulse harder. Hot Rod didn't seem to notice. “All my evenings are free. I'm technically a stowaway, as Magnus keeps reminding me.”

“Right!” Swerve banged his hand against the countertop. “Movie night. It's happening.” With instructions to a couple of other mechs so he didn't get sucked into a twelve-hour marathon, having very much learned his lesson.

“I don't know what that is!” Hot Rod laughed. “Lookin' forward to it!” 

**MTMTE – Drift II – Bugformers** (my prompt was literally 'Roddy's butt glows' and the person who requested it knows who they are)

“Rodimus? Come on, babe, you gotta tell me what's-”

“Oh, nothing's wrong,” Rodimus said in that odd, flat voice he'd been using ever since he'd been in this strange funk. “I'm just speeding things up, is all.”

“What?” Drift could only stare, bewildered, but even now in this odd, hollow mood, the one he was fully intending on asking to become his amica was stunningly lovely. But this was new, dangerous territory, and Drift was – well, adrift, without a map to guide him.

“See, you're not the first. Heh, not even the first moth. People've come before.” Drift nodded. That wasn't too surprising to hear - the firefly's exquisite light was truly something to behold, and had held him captive across many nights as he was drawn relentlessly, relentlessly to the source of its unparalleled shine. But Rodimus' face crumpled into a scowl as he jabbed an accusing finger at his own light.

“They want _this_. Not _this_.” This time, he brought two hands up to jab at his face, glaring like he was daring Drift to argue. “They get sick of me eventually. They leave. So I'm making it easier on both of us. I wouldn't blame you, I'd leave me too.” He laughed humourlessly, but was brought up short when Drift took those two hands in his own, gently lowering them.

“Rodimus.” The firebug stared at him, but quickly he looked away, to the side, anywhere but - “Look at me.” He obeyed, allowing Drift to see the real fear in his eyes for the first time. “However many left you, they were fools. It's true that it brought me to you, but-” he had to speak louder, pressing his grip as Rodimus opened his mouth, forestalling the I-knew-it. “ _But_ , if you lost it tomorrow, I'd still be here. Rodimus, you-” Drift shook his head. Instead, he opted to bing his stunned friend into an embrace. “You're amazing. That you can't see it almost feels like a crime. I'm not going anywhere. Not by my own will.” He pulled back a little, so he could see Rodimus looking at him open-mouthed.

“You're...coming on a little strong there, buddy.” Rodimus laughed faintly, but Drift was pleased to see that it looked like he'd chased away his earlier dark mood.

“I meant it. All of it.” Drift gently squeezed his hand. “If you're ever feeling down like that again, try to remember it, okay?”

“Guess it can't hurt.” Rodimus returned the squeeze with a soft, careful one of his own. “Hey, we should swing by the lake and see what junk washed up.”

Drift smiled and let Rodimus have his change of topic.


	11. Sunstreaker, Starscream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if Sunstreaker & Hot Rod were ever around at the same time/interacted in IDW canon but this is not the place where I care about that sort of thing.
> 
> First fic is for Fields_of_Heather for the prompt!

**MTMTE - Sunstreaker ( & special guest star Bob)**

“Here you are.” Sunstreaker let himself into Rodimus' office after a comm from the prime that Bob had wound up on his desk. Bob blurbled a greeting, but made no effort to move. “What's gotten into you, boy?”

“Well, uh, I might have something to do with that.” Rodimus managed an odd combination of embarrassment and a little bit of...pride? “Little guy keep coming to me lately. Think he wants some of this.” Rodimus held an arm out, and before Sunstreaker could stop his he reached around one of Bob's legs and lightly scratched the area. Bob wiggled a bit, but Sunstreaker could tell the difference between 'I am enjoying this' and 'please make it stop.' Rodimus grinned, bringing his hand up and waggling his fingers a little. However long these clandestine little visits had been going on, Rodimus had managed to discover one of Bob's biggest weak spots.

“I am the king of skritches,” Rodimus declared, challenge in his voice. “I am the best at skritch-giving, ask anyone. Ask Drift. Ask Magnus.” 

“Yeah, ri-” Sunstreaker, halfway through both bending down to collect his wayward, blissed-out Insecticon, as well as automatically dismissing Rodimus' boast, actually froze for a moment. Drift, sure, that was a given, he's sing Rodimus' praises no matter what the prime did. But _Magnus?_ That was a mental image Sunstreaker was going to have a hard time getting rid of. “Did you actually get away with that?” he asked despite himself, horrified fascination in his voice. Rodimus shrugged and laughed.

“Oh, no. Got the brig for it, some disorderly charge I'd say was made up if this was anyone but Mags. We were both drunk as slag, mostly I remember him nearly arresting himself for it as well, but I managed to talk him out of it. Then he just hauled me off.” Rodimus' expression creased into a frown the more he spoke, then he punched his fist lightly into his other hand. “Damn! We could have spent the night together! Drunk me is an _idiot_.” He shook his head ruefully.

Sunstreaker chuckled, trying to imagine the scene for himself. Movement made him look down – one of Bob's legs was absently waving in the air, and he was looking up with big, dewy eyes in a familiar, pleading expression.

“Nuh-uh, mister, that face does not work on me and you know it.” It was a total lie, but Rodimus didn't know that. For his part, the prime stepped around his desk, coming to rest a hand lightly on Sunstreaker's shoulder, both of them looking down at the contented Insecticon.

“Hey, Sunstreaker? I'm really glad you stayed.”

“Right, yeah.” Sunstreaker spared a glance at the little prime. Although he wasn't quite so little any more, was he? Hot Rod was all grown up. Quite shapely, too. It was nice that there were some changes Sunstreaker could appreciate. “Wouldn't want to deny this guy his skritches.”

**G1 – Starscream**

“For the last time, no,” Rodimus declared. “I'm not going to do your dirty work for you, Starscream.”

“But it's _important!_ " Starscream insisted, placing himself directly in the Prime's path for all the good both of them knew it would do when Rodimus just walked right through him. At least it seemed like it was a pretty unpleasant sensation to walk right through a ghost, judging by the general reaction whenever someone passed through him, and serve them right too.

“I can somehow think of kinda a _lot_ of things I need to do that are more important than your internet fights.”

“But it's -!” Starscream shot forward, keeping pace now with Rodimus as he strode down the hallway. “I haven't been able to post any replies! They'll think they've _won_ , just because a total _disgrace_ of a Decepticon _happened_ to shoot me!” 

“Yes, but - look, what is this even about, quantum physics? I don't know anything about that. I have people to know about that stuff for me.” Mostly he meant Perceptor, but Rodimus knew mentioning anything of the sort would only set off the already high-strung Seeker more.

“You don't need to! You just need to know how to type! Even Autobots can manage that! Listen, Prime, do you want me pleased or vengeful? Those are my only two moods these days, and I can't believe I'm saying this but I've _mostly_ liked you up to now.”

Through sheer force of will, Rodimus managed not to question the _these days._ Instead, he fell back on good old being-good-at-talking that he was having to do so much of lately. But just to be sure: “This isn't some weird mindgame where you're trying to give the humans tech or have them work it out for themselves, is it? That's going to be an absolute pain in the aft to sort out if-”

“No!” Starscream was practically vibrating in midair. “As if I'd give these complete _nincompoops_ that much credit!” That sounded like run-of-the-mill Starscream Outrage to Rodimus, so he decided the Seeker was probably just that much of a bad loser. He sighed. Being the responsible adult was _way_ overrated, in his opinion.

“Look, we can just pretend. I'll be whoever last posted in the thread – geez, that was six months ago, no-one is going to remember this, but they said quantum engines are 'only feasible if you're out of your mind.'” Rodimus gave a theatrical cough and shifted a little, getting into character. Starscream scowled, but to his credit he refrained from launching into an argument about how they were not just possible but eminently feasible, you complete, short-sighted fool.

“Ahem. 'Oh Starscream, you are correct about everything, and you are very smart and right all the time, and I now see how I was wrong and you have retroactively won every argument you were ever in.'”

Starscream froze. His face twisted from its near perma-scowl to something else, a wide-eyed expression Rodimus had never seen on him before. It was a little unnerving, to be honest.

“Say that again,” Starscream breathed.

“Promise to drop this and I will,” Rodimus replied. “And I'll come along so you can speak to the other scientists if you want to go over these quantum whatsits.” 

“Mmmm.” Starscream looked up at the ceiling in mock-thought. “I might need to hear that from you a few more times, Prime. And in your real voice, not that silly fake one.”

Well. It hardly cost him anything, and a pleased Starscream was much better to deal with than a vengeful one, he had to agree.


	12. Optimus, Deadlock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idw optimus might be an unlikeable asshole but that doesn't stop g1 from being cute!!!
> 
> one day Ultra Magnus will get his own fic instead of being mentioned in one.
> 
> these were sorta mashed out over 2 days during a week where I was on the early shift and was therefore mostly exhausted so probably not super great but it's Sunday so ???????

**G1 – Optimus**

Hot Rod had been embarrassed to learn that Arcee, Springer and Kup had all given some variation of the hurt-him-and-I'll kill you talk, but to his surprise so had both Ironhide and Ratchet, two mechs he didn't know very well. He supposed that the whole base was rooting for their relationship, and if Optimus spoiled it with something like that it would disappoint everyone. Optimus somehow managed to say both gravely and with that little crinkle in the corner of his optics that meant he was smiling that Magnus, for his part, had apparently said that he trusted Optimus enough to know that wasn't on the table unless it was asked for, which caused Hot Rod to snort the energon he'd been drinking up his nose. 

It was new, and tentative, and more than a little awkward because Optimus (no longer simply _Prime_ ) was three times his size, but so far everything had gone okay. The third time Optimus got too held up with paperwork to be able to do much, Hot Rod had a brainwave. 

“It's something I'd do with Magnus, before – before we came here, when he was so busy he wouldn't be able to focus on anything until he got all the reports done,” Hot Rod explained, leaving out the darker times when all of them had wondered what the point even was when he was the highest authority there was in their little group and it was unlikely at best that would ever change. “We'd just, um, sit together.”

“Oh? That does sound nice.”

“Yeah, it – here, lemme show you, sit down.” It was weirdly gratifying that Optimus complied almost immediately, sitting down at his work desk like he was about to get stuck into all the reports and inventory requests and whatever else it was that Primes did. Hot Rod approached but stopped, hesitating a little. “Are you okay with this?” He indicated. The figurative light bulb went off in Optimus' head: “Ah! I see. No, go ahead, Hot Rod.” He scooched back the chair a bit to make room, letting Hot Rod hoist himself up and wriggle a bit until he was comfortable.

“This okay?”

“It's quite all right. Much better now, in fact.”

“Yeah. It – I think it helped him, a little.” Certainly Hot Rod liked to think that he'd contributed to bleeding out some of Magnus' stressed stiffness by the end of a session, helped along by his inner heat that always seemed higher than everyone else's.

“Well.” Optimus reached around to pluck a datapad from the pile – Hot Rod recognised the glyphs that made up Prowl's signature. “The sooner we start, the sooner we finish.”

Hot Rod settled back. 

**Deadlock – Shattered Glass Barbarian AU** (aka "hey brain I want to do a silly AU but also put zero effort into it")  


“I'm going to kill you, Decepticreep,” the Autobot promised, in what he no doubt thought was a low and threatening tone. Deadlock rolled his optics.

“Yes, and then what?” As expected, this seemed to catch him off guard:

“Huh?” his prisoner stared, open-mouthed, and Deadlock felt it was reinforced that he'd done the right thing in sparing this one, because no Autobot had the right to look that dang cute. Especially one that was clearly part of yet another ill-fated scouting party.

“After you kill me. You're gonna fight your way out of camp, yeah, pick the right direction to go in, head across the desert to make it to Prime alive, then not get killed for being captured and losing the rest of your team?” Deadlock raised an optic ridge. “You must be pretty confident in yourself, Autobot.”

“Get _fucked!”_

Deadlock chuckled. He couldn't help it, the Autobot was too adorable. He was lucky Deadlock was one of Megatron's favourites, else he wouldn't have had the clout to spare the little mech – practically a mini, almost – in the first place. 

He crouched down, so they were almost optic-level, the Autobot still glaring for all he as worth. Deeadlock had seen worse.

“So. Let's get to know each other. What's your name?”

The Autobot just...rolled to the side. Amazing. Threats weren't working and he'd already figured out not even to bother struggling, so he'd rather turn his back on the enemy over something so simple and petty.

Deadlock grinned. Too bad for the guy that he dealt with Starscream daily. He could handle petty.


	13. Springer, Sideswipe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up that I'm going to be away until the 18th, dunno if I'll be able to update at all but I'll try to at least write stuff.
> 
> Also, Roadbuster is a good bro and I don't think he gets enough recognition of that fact tbh.

**IDW – Springer** (aka 'doing it on hard mode when G1 is right there')

Roadbuster was all smiles as Rodimus stepped out of the Rodpod, and vigorously shook his hands with one of his own. “It's good to see you're here, sir. I know he'd be glad, too.” Rodimus made a face, but laughed it off to show he wasn't serious: “Ew, don't Sir me, that is super weird coming from you.”

Roadbuster just laughed. “No worries, kid, just wanted to see how you'd take it. He's through here.” Rodimus followed him through the clean, sparse and – he couldn't help notice – otherwise utterly deserted station. “Is it only you guys up here?” He asked, looking around curiously. Roadbuster stopped outside a door.

“Pretty much. We ain't the most popular sort, so other species aren't keen on this place while we're here. There ain't much else medics can do for him, and I'm fine meself, so.” The big bot shrugged as he pushed the door open. “'S quiet, at least. Oh! Arcee's come by a few times. Kup, too. And now there's you.” Roadbuster beamed and ushered him through. “He'd like to know that, when he wakes up.”

“Yeah.” Rodimus followed through, then stopped. “Primus.” It had been a long while since he'd last seen Springer, and this wasn't the happiest of reunions. He was so...still. Aside from the hum and occasional beep of life-support machines, it would be deathly quiet. “Oh...his optics...” It looked like Springer was staring straight up at the white ceiling, unblinking.

“Yeah, they do that. You can close 'em, but they'll open right back up. I like to think it's a good sign.”

Rodimus peered closer. Where they always that shade of blue?

“Anyway, I'll leave you to it, you probably want some quiet time with him, yeah? There's a dispenser in the corner if you get hungry.”

“Thanks.” Rodimus settled down – there was only one chair in the room. Once Roadbuster left, the silence would stretch on until it was filled. “Hey.” He reached out to gently take one bulky, battle-scarred finger in his hand. It seemed smaller than he remembered, when it would wave admonishingly in a laughing Hot Rod's face. “Primus, this is weird. You shouldn't be so still like this.” No response, of course. Rude. 

“Well, I've been okay, I guess. Lotta stuff happened. Drift got me this ship, and I'm Captain, and – it's good, for the most part. I like to think I'm doing a good job.” Overlord's face loomed in his memory. “I guess we've got this in common now, there was this time when - ” he stopped himself. “Nah, never mind, you don't wanna hear that slag. Arcee, huh? I hear she's doing well. That's good, I'm glad for her. Even if she's terrifying.” It continued like that, Rodimus filling in his old friend with everything that had gone on, and it would do so until something on the _Lost Light_ happened that made Magnus overrule how sensitive the situation was and called him back. Until then, Rodimus rambled everything and anything that came to mind, complete with hand gestures and personal commentary.

Inevitably, the call came. He waved Roadbuster goodbye, jetted off in the Rodpod, and was already thinking of all the personal little touches he could put into the Rodimus Star. A little off-protocol, since Springer wasn't crew, but Rodimus was damn well Captain and could do whatever he wanted. He smiled as he directed the little ship towards the docking bay, imagining the look on Springer's face as he turned the emblem over to read the inscription: 

_For not dying_.

**G1 – Sideswipe**

Tyres squealed as an attempted U-turn went wrong and Hot Rod careened on his side. His pursuer took immediate advantage, crashing into him like a torpedo and thoroughly winding him. “Wait, wait, wait!” He gasped in mid-transformation, half-formed hands already flailing. “Okay, you got me!”

“Oh, what was that?” Sideswipe purred, already in robot mode and pinning Hot Rod into the sand as his transformation completed. “That sounds like _Sideswipe wins_ to _me_.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Hot Rod grumbled, vainly trying to push the heavier mech off. This was what half-drunken boasts in the rec room got him, he supposed. 

“Hmm.” Sideswipe grinned down at him as hands started to roam, causing Hot Rod to shudder as fingers dipped into seams and trailed along his spoiler. “Seems I'm all alone out here with only a cute little Autobot for company.”

“Oh, for – ah!” Hot Rod's body involuntarily twisted as Sideswipe found a spot he hadn't even known existed, and that was just not fair. Well, if he was going to play dirty, then - 

Sideswipe made a pleasing _ghmmphf_ sound when Hot Rod surged up to steal a kiss. “Winner or not, I'm not scared of _you_ ,” the smaller mech challenged when they broke apart. 

“Good,” Sideswipe grinned, wiping off his mouth. “More fun that way.” He bent down, and against the burning sand, there was more than just kisses.


	14. Tarn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, just doing what I do best, which is to kind of have a good thing going then ghost everyone with zero explanation because I'm a very cool person.
> 
> Thought I'd throw this up because it's at least something rather than wait another week just to stick religiously to a self-imposed deadline while being fixated on a fic that just isn't coming together as much as I want it to (it's because Getaway is a jerk).
> 
> First time writing Tarn, any and all feedback appreciated <3 (also the usual disclaimer of I have no idea how the timeline squares up re Tarn + Nyon but, as always, this is not the place where we care about That Sort Of Thing)
> 
> also also, i do acutally have a tumblr i never post here because I am an ingrained lurker but maybe I will try to post things???? eventual yelling about my faves to come to http://of-nyon.tumblr.com/, probably, maybe don't hold your breath after what happened this month

**IDW - Tarn - DJD AU**

There was fire. From this distance there were no screams, but that made it worse. He hunched down on himself, torn between fixating on the ground and being unable to look away from his own craftsmanship. A large hand landed on his shoulder, uncomforting even as Optimus murmured: “you did the right thing, Hot Rod.”

There was no _thing_. It was crumbling away before him in flames, _nothing nothing nothing-_

 _”Ambush!”_ Someone called out. Optimus shifted position but Hot Rod barely noticed as shots rang out. He must have been the easiest target anyone'd had in the entire war up to this point. Hot Rod collapsed without a sound when someone snaked around Optimus' too-slow form and struck a precise blow to the back of his head.

\---

There was red, and endless screams. Hot Rod drifted, in and out, in and out. Each time the red sea rolled him in, he became dimly aware of a voice. It was the smoothest voice he'd ever heard, and while he couldn't begin to decipher the words it still lifted him up and away from the clawing earth and howling oceans, and he let it.

\---

The voice accompanied him in fits and starts as conciousness returned. This time he was even in enough of a lucid state to understand the words. 

“- _and we must stand for all those who cannot, lift up those even if they will not lift themselves-”_

“Izzat-” he choked on static. The voice was kind enough to continue, ignoring his embarrassing blip. He tried to struggle into a sitting position, only really managed to push himself up on his elbows, and onlined his optics. 

“That's 'Towards Peace',” Hot Rod said, or tried to say past the slurring and click-glitching and static. For the first time, The Voice paused, giving Hot Rod the opportunity to ogle its owner in all his huge, very purple, very Decepticon glory.

“You know it.” It wasn't a question. The extensive facemask made him hard to read, but from what little familiarity he'd picked up, Hot Rod thought he maybe sounded pleased.

“We passed it around.” It had made sense. So much sense, in fact, that orders from above quickly made it strict contraband in all the factories and forges, which only added to its power. The Decepticon looked down at the datapad he'd been reading out from and gently stroked it. Okay, that was a little weird. “A truly tragic loss,” he murmured. It was only then that reality finally struck. Hot Rod slumped down, suddenly unable to provide any resistance to gravity. 

“They're dead,” he said hollowly. His hands fisted, and he just realised the berth he was on was surprisingly plush, easily the nicest one he'd ever been in, but that hardly mattered. “They're dead and I killed them.”

“Yes.” The Decepticon agreed. If he'd tried arguing Hot Rod down that it wasn't his fault, he'd have been looking at a punch right in the purple facemask. As it was, Roddy sat quietly as he continued: “It was the right choice. You have won Megatron's respect; that it why I am here. He wished me to keep an eye on you while you recover. My only regret is that I cannot be part of the team assembled to dispose of Zeta.”

While his voice was the same soothing flow of words, this time it didn't help. “Won? I _won_ his respect? Wow, and all I had to do was – was –” Hot Rod couldn't even finish the joke, too terrible against his tongue as sarcasm failed. “Frag off,” he settled for instead, curling up on the berth. The comfort felt like a sin. 

His visitor – helper, captor? – took it with grace and chose not to comment. “My name is Tarn. I am to ensure your recovery.”

Like the city? Hot Rod wrinkled his nose in confusion. Weird name. Nice voice, though. He could listen to it all day.

“And then, you have a choice to make. Given your actions, I assume no, but have you ever heard of the Decepticon Justice Division?”


End file.
